


don't throw it away

by izzylizardborn



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Post-The Raven King, The Raven King Spoilers, just a little extra closure for the gang + noah, to supplement the epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzylizardborn/pseuds/izzylizardborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only fair that Noah finally got to rest, whatever that might’ve meant. But they were, at least, going to try to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't throw it away

**Author's Note:**

> just a little pre-epilogue addition for those of us who thought noah deserved more acknowledgement at the end of everything!

Blue was the first to know that Noah was _gone_.

Following everything that had happened – the making and the unmaking, the dying and the living again – it was hardly surprising that Noah wasn’t there in the aftermath. But Noah not being there was not the same as Noah being _gone_. 

He wasn’t at 300 Fox Way when they all stumbled in the front door, high on the fact that they were alive, alive, alive – that against all odds, Gansey walked in with them, his elbow linked into Blue’s and his hand clasped with Adam’s hand – _Adam’s_ hand, not Cabeswater’s hand, not the demon’s hand, just Adam’s – with Henry on Blue’s other side, and Ronan on Adam’s other side, and Opal on the other side of Ronan, a family all together; Gansey’s fatigue and jubilation combining into the most regal, wild boyhood any of them had ever seen. 

He was alive. They were all alive. 

Right now, they didn’t care about losing Glendower – not when they’d managed to wake the king that really mattered. 

But Noah wasn’t there. Not as the psychics wrangled the kids into the kitchen, urging them to sit, demanding they explain. Not as the kids stayed standing, too victorious to sit, too electric to explain. Not as the adrenaline melted down into a disbelieving exhaustion – sleep seemed like such an unnecessary, human thing after everything they’d seen – and not as they stumbled down on to couches and beds and armchairs. 

Blue thought that Noah should’ve been there. That surely he needed to see this, see them, smiling and breathing and alive. 

She thought maybe that was rude, being so wonderfully alive in front of a ghost, so maybe that was why he wasn’t there. She thought maybe that there just wasn’t enough energy. She thought maybe he was still guilty over her eye, or still afraid that he’d hurt her again. 

While Gansey rested with his head in her lap, Blue said to the room, “Noah, you don’t have to be scared anymore. The demon’s gone. We did it.” But the air stayed warm. “It’s okay. You can use my energy.” But there was still nothing, no one, no Noah. 

It was then that she knew he was _gone_. 

She said nothing, though, because she couldn’t help but have some small, selfish hope that he’d come back. 

But Noah wasn’t at Monmouth Manufacturing, either. 

Not as Gansey and Ronan skidded back into the parking lot and poured up the stairs. Not as Gansey stepped into the castle – his castle, his home, that he thought he’d never see again. Not as Ronan slammed toward his room, the triumph of everything beginning to level against the grief of everything else. 

Ronan was the next to know, when he laid down that night, eyes wide against the dark, feelings warring. There was so much to be happy about. They’d saved Gansey, Matthew, Adam, himself, maybe the world. But not without casualties. Not without losing Cabeswater. Not without losing his mom. Not without losing Noah. 

Noah was _gone_. He knew it was true, although he didn’t know how, and he was no longer in the business of lying to himself, even though it hurt. 

Ronan was the first to cry for Noah. The crying was for more than just Noah, probably – for all of it; a few red hot tears for everything; a few for the bruises on his neck where the demon used Adam’s hands to suffocate him, a few for the feeling of being unmade, a few for sitting over Gansey’s corpse, a few for all the horror that they’d seen. But more than a few for Noah, too. 

Gansey knew the next morning. When the sun woke him with warmth on his skin and light on his eyelids, when the day rolled to a start – showers and breakfasts, quips and smiles. When life resumed again, and Noah was still nowhere to be found. 

Noah was _gone_. He gave a cordial knock on Noah’s door before peeking it open to see if he was inside, but even as he did it, he knew it was empty. 

Adam was the first to say it, though. 

He had known as soon as he thought about it. He felt the ley line, tumultuous and rolling and wavering and surging as it attempted to recover in the aftermath of everything, dragging him around in its wake. It wasn’t easy, and he had the advantage of being alive – there was no way Noah’s fragile energy could’ve hung on. 

As they sat in the BMW outside of Aglionby – Ronan was dropping them off on his way to the Barns, and Gansey didn’t try to convince him to attend classes instead – something held them there in silence. Adam broke it with, “Noah’s dead.” 

Noah was dead. Of course he was. 

Noah had been dead since the day they met him. Really, the Noah they’d known hadn’t even been Noah at all. 

But that didn’t matter. They loved him, and he loved them. He was their friend. Dead or not, Noah or not. 

Adam immediately revised his statement with, “Noah is _gone_.” 

And that just wouldn’t do. 

Gansey, the boy who was more than a boy, the boy who had died twice and still lived, the boy who had seen so much impossibility that the only impossibility left was to believe that there was such a thing, was no longer convinced of the permanence of death. 

Gansey was the first to offer an idea. 

Ronan scoffed at it and Adam was silent, but regardless of if they believed it would work, they wanted it to. 

So, they arrived at 300 Fox Way that afternoon to propose a séance. 

Blue was more than enthusiastic about the idea. 

It was only fair that Noah finally got to rest, whatever that might’ve meant. But they were, at least, going to try to say goodbye. 

With all the psychics and mirrors and magicians, the best they could come up with was to use a Ouija board. 

“Really?” Adam had asked, and Maura had said, “There’s a reason that it’s a classic technique. It works.” 

As it turned out, the Ouija board in question was not classic, but a hot pink plastic thing with not only letters, numbers, and ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘good-bye,’ but a range of iPhone-style emojis, including a smilie face, a heart, a frowning face, a ghost, a star, and more. For modern children to commune with modern ghosts, perhaps – like texting with the dead. 

And so, Maura and Calla helped as Adam scryed and searched and called, and Blue set her fingers on the planchette, powering up the room. Gansey sat on one side of her, back straight and hands tucked in his lap, and Ronan slouched on the other, arms crossed, eyes up toward the ceiling in an attempt to disguise sadness or hope or both. 

When everything was in order, Gansey spoke: “Noah.” 

The chair left empty across from them showed no change, but the planchette moved under Blue’s hands to spell out, “I’m sorry.” 

Blue’s heart broke. Speaking out loud didn’t seem fair when Noah couldn’t do the same, so she spelled back, “I love you.” 

Noah wrote, “I know,” and Blue was relieved, and then he wrote, “I love you too.” He left the planchette on the smiling emoji, which Blue could imagine well on his face, and she smiled back, hoping he could see it. 

Her turn was up, so she nudged at Ronan with her foot, and with a huff, he leaned over the board and rested just his fingertips against the planchette, like it might burn him if he touched it too directly. “So now you’re like, double dead,” he began aloud. 

Noah spelled out, “Boo” and then settled the planchette on the ghost emoji, which coaxed a pout out of Ronan that, on his face, was more like a sad smile. 

Ronan cleared his throat, but then thought better of whatever he was going to say. Instead, he shoved the planchette around, deliberate but forceful, to spell out out the word “Remembered.” 

The fact that Noah was _gone_ now didn’t change that. 

Noah spelled back, “Thank you.” 

Ronan abruptly stood, hands snapping into his pockets and back turned to leave, but then he stilled and sat back in his seat, biting hard on the inside of his cheek. This would be the last time he’d be in Noah’s presence, no matter how disincarnate he now was. He’d stay for the whole of it. 

Adam went next. “Are you okay?” he asked aloud after placing his hands on the planchette so Noah could respond. 

Noah didn’t hesitate to slide over to “Yes.” 

The room let out a sigh it didn’t know it had been holding. 

Adam said, “If you ever need us, we’re here.” He wanted to feel silly for such a thing – what could a dead boy need from them? – but he couldn’t. He meant it too much. 

Noah spelled “Ok,” and Adam thought he was done, until Noah started writing something else: “Knowable.” 

Adam nodded. “I know,” he said. No matter how unknowable he had felt, Noah had always known him. 

“Good,” Noah wrote, and Adam sat back, letting his eyes shut for a moment. 

That left Gansey. 

He poised his hands on the planchette, imagining Noah’s cold fingers on the other side of it, imagining Noah’s smudgy self attached to those fingers and sitting in the empty chair. 

Before Gansey could speak, Noah started spelling. 

“You will live because of Glendower.” 

Gansey’s world stilled and stopped as the phrase built itself. Of course, he knew now that there was no Glendower. With all the magic in the world, Glendower was not a part of it. He was a pile of bones under armor and dirt, with not enough power to wake himself, let alone to exchange Noah’s life for Gansey’s. 

No, it made sense that the voice had been Noah’s all along. 

Noah didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to. 

“Thank you,” Gansey spoke, knowing his voice was his power. He didn’t sound like a king right now, though. He sounded like a boy on the brink of tears, saying goodbye to one of his best friends. “Thank you from all of us, Noah, and for everything.” 

If not for Noah, he wouldn’t be here. In the cosmic sense of the word ‘here’ – in this world, on this plane of existence, in this body. But he also wouldn’t be _here_ – with his friends, the other pieces of his soul. They wouldn’t be _here_ , either – Adam might still be in his father’s trailer, Ronan might’ve bled out that night he awoke with the wounds from his nightmares, Blue might still be searching endlessly for her something more. They wouldn’t have befriended Henry, they wouldn’t have Opal, and there would’ve been no one to stop the demon when it came to unmake the world. 

Noah slid the planchette to “Good-bye” and Gansey’s heart seized, thinking that that was all there was. But his fingers lingered for one more hopeful second, and Noah slowly spelled out, “Don’t throw it away.” 

“We won’t,” Gansey promised, knowing it was true. 

And they didn’t. 

They _lived_ , because Noah couldn’t. 

Ronan was home and he was happy. He dreamed, and he awoke, and he cared for the land, for Opal, and for himself. 

Adam was finally, finally free. College took him away, as he always longed it would, and no one owned him. He was his own man, but he was no longer lonesome. 

Blue and Gansey traveled with Henry. They found themselves, and they fell in love, and the wonders didn’t cease. 

The world was wide and it was all of theirs. They were loud and triumphant and kings of _everything_. 

And every year, they met back up on that November day when Gansey died a second time, and they sat at the decrepit, nameless church where they had re-buried Noah’s bones. They drank schnapps and had a bonfire. They listened to Ronan’s terrible music, they retold jokes that should’ve died by then but hadn’t, that never would, and they laughed so loud that the stars could hear them, and it was beautiful and vibrant and warm and lovely and _alive_ – everything Noah had been, everything Noah deserved to be. 

They remembered Noah, and the best way to honor him was to treasure what he had given them – the gift of their lives, and, maybe more than that, the gift of each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed it!! 
> 
> come cry about the raven kids with me on tumblr at @[gaybluesargent](http://gaybluesargent.tumblr.com/)!  
> [(this fic is rebloggable here!)](http://gaybluesargent.tumblr.com/post/143645131681/dont-throw-it-away)
> 
> i'm fairly new to sharing my writing online so any comments or feedback are super appreciated!! :^) thank you again!


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